


dr. sunshine is dead

by angelicwerewolf



Series: a hyena’s tale [2]
Category: Furry (Fandom), Original Work
Genre: 'so anyways i'm not dead', Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Family Drama, Furry, Mentions of Death, Mutation, Not Beta Read, Sea Monsters, Smoking, Trauma, Underwater Horror, a literal world of furries trying to survive sea monsters, bog doctor at some point probably, don't @ me ok, monsters & creatures, slug goes thru the five stages of what the fuck, why is that not a tag yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25210936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelicwerewolf/pseuds/angelicwerewolf
Summary: After arriving at Bogland Islands, The Uroboros trio go on about their things the following day until Captain Slug strays off the group to go the library in an attempt to figure out what's the meaning behind a peculiar book he's owned for almost a full year now. It only made sense, after being so insistent he had to come to the island.He, along with Venus and Bandit, instead discover so much more with the help of a friendly couple who led the way.
Series: a hyena’s tale [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826512





	dr. sunshine is dead

**Author's Note:**

> original title was gonna be "Surprise! I'm not dead. - Your Brother."
> 
> anyways, this is the final plot-related piece i'll be posting for my story "The Harbor Of Monsters" bc everything else will be heavy spoilers.
> 
> i died writing this. enjoy!
> 
> you don't need to read the previous work for too much context dw, and to reiterate: hyena brothers are striped hyenas, Bandit is (ofc) raccoon, Venus is a english spot rabbit, Rhett is a satin rat, and Eugene is a clydesdale draft horse.

At one point during the morning, as the captain was prone to do, he slipped off from his rambunctious crew; without notice this time. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to do, but he realizes a tad too late, as he scours the library, that might be a cause for concern given yesterday’s events.

He can just about manage to put this at ease though, quickly recalling he’d told Bandit where his likely whereabouts were to be: Bogland’s Home Library, or his room at Rusted Iron Inn. “Peculiar name, that.” He let his ears rest, relaxed, wondering aloud and mindlessly, barely paying attention to it until it’s replaced by his search.

On one paw, he held an open book belonging to the library. On the other, he held his own book, a frustratingly indecipherable _mess_ encoded with an ancient language. The book looked the part too, with it’s spine loose and tearing with yellowing, stained, ink-blotched papers, but the script itself was well preserved.  
  
However-- That didn’t matter if he couldn’t make heads or tails of it, now, could he? Like taking a wild plunge into the waters, no gear or protection or a sturdy boat to save you after. That’s how he felt like, contemplating the thing. This book’s existence was as mysterious as its text, too, having acquired it in what was effectively a garage sale where no one knew where it precisely came from, either.

Islet was the island, and very well true to its name. There was a sweet elderly lady, one that treated him as if he, a complete stranger, was her grandson but he supposed that’s how all elderly people were, weren’t they? She was a wise, scholarly cat with black and white fur, sporting big round glasses that were resting atop the bridge of her nose, best he could remember out such a hectic few days on Islet.

She’d greeted him from her seat behind the table, stacked with quite the fair share of things that were hard to acquire, if only because they were old knicknackeries hard to come by as is-- water globes, coins, music boxes, even books which by far piqued his interest. He may not look like it, but he was quite the adept reader, an enthusiastic one even if not shown on the surface. He’d picked the most unusual book of the bunch, worn and old and hefty, with not a discernible title and only imprints of, what, a name? The author’s name, maybe.

His confusion mangled with curiosity that day must’ve been noticed, because the old cat that had been preoccupied at that moment called for his attention, kicking his eyes back on the shorter one. What she told him exactly was a bit hazy, in fact, the entire time at Islet had been hazy-- but out of their entire conversation, he clearly remembers the shortest explanation for the book.

She said it happened some years ago, never specified when, It looked as if the book had appeared out of thin air and just so happened to fall from the skies and land near their house. And her daughter had been the one to find it that morning, and was seemingly intending to keep it for herself despite what she taught must’ve thought was gibberish written in it.

Unfortunately: The book terrified the daughter not long after. She cried and cried to her parents, unable to comprehend why she got such a horrible foreboding vehemence from a harmless book. She didn’t wanna say it at the time, in fear her daughter’s horror became worse, but she herself and her wife got the same sensation.  
  
The book emanated something strange; not dangerous, just strange; as if called forth something, _someone_ alone so full of hurt and rage and sorrow. Captain Slug remembers the chill he shrugged down, though made it worse as an uncomfortable cold tightened in his gut so very nauseously; because truth be told, the book did call to him, he did feel some form of unease from it that tapped a bit too much with his monstrous curse that twisted the bones beneath him.

She gave him the book free of cost moments later, much to the captain’s protests, but she never said he _couldn’t_ pay for other things. He got away with purchasing quite a beautiful smoking pipe, so pristine with wonderful floral carvings for something so old. That wasn’t all though, because maybe he tipped _just_ enough for the book’s original price that day.  
  
He’d left Islet then, before the old cat and her wife who’d come to the yard caught on. That’s the same day he sailed back home, to Eastduff Reef, and coincidentally met Venus hours later in the fresh evening.

“Sir? Captain? Hello?”

The captain blinks slowly at the stranger’s voice, scaled paws slowly waving up and down to get his attention, and his internal monologue comes crashing down around him like the fury of thrashing waves against a ship’s hull.

“Oh. Oh, I did it again, didn’t I?” The captain’s _there_ , though a bit glassy eyed, not truly noticing the presence of someone besides him. Instead his eyes fixated on the vacant spot of the library’s book.  
  
“Did what?” The same voice spoke again, concern in her tone. “Are you alright, do you require assistance?”  
  


As she continued, Slug just readjusted the library's book in his paws back to its assigned space on the shelves, “I spaced out.” he said coolly and rather matter-of-factly. Although he wasn’t being dismissive to her, his sometimes sedated voice came across the wrong way. “Sorry, I’m in a bit of a pickle at the moment.” Slug sighed, turning to properly face her and takes quick notice of the second employee behind her when he does. He was a short husky, tan fur nearly matching the eagle owl’s feathers, peeking just above her shoulders a little ways back, big excited eyes but fidgety.

“Hello to you too, back there,” The hyena waves at him, then looks back down to the owl. “Timid, is he?”

“Oh, not timid enough, I don’t think.” She replied with a snort, holding back some laughter. She doesn’t notice, nor does the husky when he comes closer, but Captain Slug must _at least_ look a little bit confused. What, did he say something funny, or was that some sort of inside joke between the coworkers and just forgot to clue him in on it?  
  


He shrugs, for whatever the case might be he won’t ask about it, feeling it rude to intrude after all. He quickly changes the subject, “I think I saw you two earlier, right, behind the counter with a cart full of books? What’re your names?”

“Oh, yeah! That was us-- we’re just placing them away now.” The husky beams. “I’m Bruno, Captain Sir!”  
  
“I’m Renee.” She said after. “Is there a reason for your book inquiry? You looked pretty frustrated earlier before you stopped here, I assume you might need help.”

“If you two are not too busy, I’d appreciate that.”  
  
“It’s a slow day, so there’s no rush. What’re you looking for, Captain?”  
  
Slug holds the cover, or lack thereof, of the faceless hardback book forward to the employees. It’s hard to see, for the golden flecks of ink that once faintly filled the imprints of a name had all but wilted away, so he points one claw to their bottom right. “Has there been any other books by this _T.B.S_?”

The two are squinting just a bit up at it, Slug being taller than them both, so he quickly lowers it to where ceiling lights hopefully do the job better of showing the initials, rather than just pointing at them. Renee and Bruno share an inquisitive look between each other.  
  
“We do have books _with_ similar author initials, but nothing quite like that.”

“Quite right." Renee hums. "What about the contents of the book, what genre?”  
  
Oh. That’s a bit too hard to explain without sounding like a mad rambler who had no idea what he was talking about _or_ without showing them; too worried it’d have the same fear effects it had on that old cat’s daughter years ago. Internally he grimaces as he retracts the book firm against his chest, feigning that to be more out of autonomy rather than purposed will as he scratched his scruffy chin, thinking. How in the world was he supposed to put this book into words?

The hyena himself had no idea what compelled him to come to Bogland Islands in the first place, so how he was supposed to _know_ the purpose of a mysterious book in his possession when he hasn't the faintest clue what he’s trying to find.

_Mystery. Magic. The Occult._ **_Fun_ ** _Puzzles._

“To be completely honest,” When he fiddles with the strap of his messenger’s bag, he decides to stash the book away carefully. “This book’s in a language I don’t understand. I’m a marine and terrestrial life expert, but even _I_ have noticed this language is so ancient it’s forgotten by the world, but ancient enough to be a language spoken by few for, hm,” It wouldn’t be a good idea cluing them on his uncanny suspicions, could probably spook them both away. He could say puzzles but It _definitely_ won’t help. There's magic, perhaps _maybe,_ but he’s not gonna open _that_ pandora’s box. He’s already got his own to deal with. It’s pitifully ironic.  
  
So, he settled for another shrug, finishing his thought with half a lie. "A reason or another. I couldn’t begin to guess, really, that’s why I’m here.”

They stay quiet for just a tiny bit, until they both shrug at the same time and Bruno turns back to him. “It’s not at all relating to the author’s initials obviously, but a dictionary is a good start.”

“I figured as much but,” And he bites his bottom lip. That aforementioned frustration is growing again-- not at them though, heavens no, but rather for how utterly under the skin-itching this puzzle is. He’d been at it for a year and his patience was wearing thin.

Just for the record, he’ll throw hands with this author just for that.

“Scratch that. The dictionaries for this might be scarce, but who knows.” Slug shakes his head, relaxing both of his fidgety ears, _especially_ the scarred one-- maybe it was the huge triangle earring he wore that made that ear more susceptible to twitch, but deep down he knew it was for different reasons. ”I’ve taken far too much of you two’s time already and I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with your bosses, so I’ll be off. Thank you.”

With that he bids farewell to Renee and Bruno. He offered a small smile with an equally tiny nod at them before disappearing around an aisle, but didn’t exactly go down it. Instead he continues down to the left directly, until he spots one of the shelve's signs read in big and bold letters, _Languages._ Then he turned down into that aisle.  
  


He half-mindlessly searches through each book, chewing the inside of his cheek as he poked for any familiar letters matching his own. He shut that book a bit defeatedly, putting it away while simultaneously taking out another one, promptly flipping it open.

_Familiar._

It’s suddenly an odd word to him today because of the indecipherable book. Although ominous, it carried that odd sense of familiarity that should’ve been reassuring and comforting but instead served for Slug’s hackles to become agitated. A bit more rash, slightly off-kilter for his calm demeanor.  
  
Then his heart drops. It becomes a suffocating painful mush at the bottom of his stomach, hammering there instead. Oh, this is the same unsteadiness he felt all those years ago-- The anger his own, _at_ himself, for his failures, but dangerous because of Her Eyes who turned him into an unspeakable beast. He’d had the many unfortunate times to be conscious during these and see himself-- He couldn’t bear for that to happen _now._ _  
_ _  
_ He had no full control of this horrible thing, so slips here and there were to be expected but why here, where thousands could suffer from things unable to be steered.

_No. Shut up._ “Enough of that. Stop it.” He told himself in a whisper, almost burying his face in the book in his paws. Myohmy, he just couldn’t concentrate on one damn thing today, could he. Slug shuddered off the unwelcomed dread off his shoulders, hoping to quickly drown himself in words on books while his active thoughts were distracted.

  
  
It didn’t help much.

He needs a smoke real bad right now and that overpowered his patience for this today. There’s always at a later time, or even tomorrow if he truly just wasn’t up to it. The book goes back to its place on the shelf and, wanting to avoid people right now, he stuck to the library’s back halls where it was considerably empty.

The Captain beelines it for the empty beaches not so far off once outside. Though there’s a fastened step to his pace, Slug doesn’t make a mad dash or anything, he even stops for a moment to pull his captain’s hat from his bag to pop it back on. Even if there were no signs in the library telling otherwise, he’d taken it off for common mannerisms but did it make him feel all too vulnerable in there.

Once at the beach with his trusty hat on, Captain Slug takes in the fresh ocean scent through his lungs and the colder air swept and parted his messy hair and what little fur is visible on him, usually wearing so much sometimes he even forgets about the patterns on his body.  
  
He should take a cold shower tonight. It’s not like he’ll get sick that easily anymore, and the Inn rooms had heaters anyways. For now though, he basks in the foggy island’s shoreline, walking towards the abandoned pier there.

The pier seems sturdy enough, even if claimed by barnacles and missing a few planks here and there. Carefully he climbs onto it, walking just as cautiously before he stops at the edge, gazing at the horizon-- or what was the horizon between clear view and fog, though the fog today wasn’t as thick as the prior afternoon, allowing a far wider view out to the ocean beyond and it’s imposing bigness.

Pandora’s Ocean was a well-suited name for their expansive blue topped with the abundance of many sea monsters bent on your demise. Sighing for what must’ve been the fifth time today, Slug pulls at the bag across him and digs around for his pipe.

It’s gonna be a bit hard to light it here, but if he’s known for anything other than his smoking habits is his stubbornness. Quite skillfully and not at all bothered by the wind, he prepares the tobacco in the pipe’s mouth with his butane lighter, igniting the tobacco to swell and because he’s done it before like this, pushed it just a bit down with his thumb, gently, to reignite it and keep it lit.  
  
When confident the embers won’t die out, does he finally stick the lighter back into his messenger’s pockets, keeping the standard cigarettes and torch lighter in his coat’s instead. He takes a deep inhale, tasting the vanilla flavoring to it with silent delight, then let’s it out in a puff of smoke.  
  
He’s not one to experience the negative effects for smoking cigarettes _and_ tobacco, but he wasn’t immune to growing awfully addicted. He knows that far too well, only made the decision to pick up smoking voluntarily after thinking it through when he was twenty-six and, well--  
  
Almost a decade later and here he is at the grand age of thirty-four. Just barely alive, smoking his little canine heart out. He admits it wasn’t the best choice, smoking wasn’t good by any means but it helped him relax in times like these and frankly, it’s second hand nature at this point. Could he ever quit? Unlikely, but he shouldn’t guess the future.

“You’re thinkin’ too much, Slug.” Slug scolds himself through another puff of smoke, pulling the pipe back. The smoke becomes nothing in the ocean wind, whisked away like lapping water on the shore. “Way too much.” Angling his head down, he watched the dark blue waters gently rise up and down, that ever so occasionally morphed his reflection in ridiculous ways. The water on shore of course wasn’t deep enough to harbor anything dangerous, but he still shouldn’t be this close to it nevertheless.  
  
Then coincidentally as if the world constantly wanted to prove his fears correct or his ideas wrong, she stuck his middle finger at him in the form of a skeletal serpentine’s spine bobbing up just enough for Slug to catch the telltale tellings of its length and flexibility.

With his eyes he follows the length of the dead creature, bits and pieces here bobbing past the surface before sinking once again, until they stop just a bit ways away to his left.

He’s not entirely sure how he missed it at first but there, close enough to shallow waters but deep enough for a serpent, laid the half-sunken boat, capsized nearly all the way and on top of it laid the, half decapitated he supposes, skull of the serpent-- the good chunk of the neck attached to it was still clinging to the rest of the body which was incredibly sad.

Were it not for his book, he’d think this skeletal beast was well and alive but it wasn’t. Maybe he should be thankful because of skeletal beasts favoring to distract a meal, have another of it’s group ambush, but he felt sad for the serpent being, in fact, _long_ dead.

“Poor thing.” Another puff of smoke goes. Slug’s leaning forward just a bit, inspecting the monster’s old wounds; or trying to at least, from where he is. The ship’s hull, all across the edges to the battered propellers, had a dark, dried musk. He frowns a little, just about making how clean sliced some of the bones where, including the thin bones of its fins.

“How’d you get caught there, so far from home?”

  
  


The short back fins drooped and her open jaw hung in what must’ve been slow panted breaths before she finally died and became immortalized by Bogland Island’s residents in this sad scenic view. He’s confident that this Razorback Serpent was a juvenile, explaining how she didn’t beach herself and her resulting death, which seemed to be purely accidental.

  
The skeleton and boat suddenly became harder to see, now that late morning was rolling into the afternoon. In that moment, with another puff of his tobacco pipe, he nods forward to the poor animal, her carcass becoming entirely swallowed by the fog then and there. It’s sad, but impeccable how after a Razorback’s wasted away and there’s nothing but a skeleton-- Their bones remained attached, firmly intact as when they were once alive. Unless pulled apart by an individual’s paw or another animal’s jaws, it persevered.

Then with one last look to the closer drawn horizon, Captain Slug decides to get off the pier before something less friendly is able to do the same as the Razorback pays him a visit. He carefully steps around the missing planks, keeps to the center, then hops back down to mushed sand. 

It’s best he tries to find the other two.

On what must’ve been a clearer path so many eras ago, he followed it just as he did to get to the beach in the first place. On the small incline where sand and firmer ground with wooden planks met, there was a small flight of stairs and to its sides: tall shrubbery, parting the beach itself from the town up ahead.  
  
Which he can clearly see from here, unlike the fluffy bolt that ran right into him when they turned the corner at the same time he did. The other wasn’t strong enough to topple him down when the two collided, but the individual in question nearly fell on his rear were it not for Slug catching the familiar face in time.  
  


“Goodness me, Venus! Giving an old sailor a heart attack here, are you?” He spoke around the pipe, which he took in his paws to lift it away from Venus once he stilled him, and turned his head away to puff out the following smoke. “Where’re you off to in such a hurry, sport?”

“There you are!” Venus started, then tried to catch his breath a bit longer. The following giggle doesn’t seem to help him. “You know, Captain Sir? You're as quiet as the night! I didn’t even hear you.”

“Well, the sand only just muffled my footsteps but it is hard to hear already with this wind blowin’ around like this.”

Venus smiles his usual big smile, "Ooh," he shrugs. "Guess so! I have big rabbit ears but even I can’t hear _all._ ”

Slug just chuckles in response, then motions Venus the step ahead of him and retrace his steps. If Venus followed from behind, the pipe’s smoke was gonna just slap him in the face and Slug didn’t want that.

Thankfully, Venus obliges and heads on forward with Slug soon following behind, his pipe back on his lips to take another draw of it. “So. I assume you were looking for me for a reason?”  
  
“Oh, yes! Bandit and I were looking for you.”  
  
“What for?”  
  
“It seems we’re quite famous ‘round here, given we’re the only non-courier visitors in _decades._ ” Venus stopped by the wooden path into the town, waiting for Slug to catch up. “Especially you! They’ve all heard of you, how you’re the only captain left who's dared set sail for so many years.”  
  
“Oh, boy. I’m not sure I like this pseudo-celebrity status,” Slug stops by Venus. “Actually? I’m positive I don’t.” They both resume walking, then. “Anyways. What’s it got to do with you two looking for me, did something happen?”  
  
“Not at all! See, when we went back to The Rusted Iron Inn to see if you were there, we ran into a couple who were looking for all three of us,” and Slug nods, carefully listening. “They said they wanted to introduce us to someone!”  
  
“Oh? Did they say why?”

Venus slows his pace down, now walking shoulder-to-shoulder with him, opposite of the pipe’s line of sight. The rabbit’s ears tilt down just a bit, as their source ponders and hums. “I think they thought we were looking for the guv, but when we told them that’s not why we were here they still thought we’d like to meet him. We weren’t gonna make a decision that wasn’t yours, so I went out to find you while the couple waits with Bandit back at the Inn.”

“That’s nice of you both to do.” Venus gets a hearty hair ruffle, making him giggle. “Let’s make time then, we don’t wanna keep ‘em waiting.”  
  


_____________________________

  
  
  


When they got back to The Rusted Iron Inn, Captain Slug introduced himself to the couple even if they already knew who he is and the two let their names known to be Rhett and Eugene. He vaguely recalls seeing these two in passing the day before, dining at the restaurant across the street from the Inn.

When inquired about this guy they wanted them to meet, the two didn’t want to spoil the surprise for whichever reason but they _did_ say he’s known through Bogland Islands as The Bog Doctor. It turns out that nobody knows what his real name is, if he even has one.

With the couple as their guide, chatting lively with all three of them, they went past the town’s civilization into the jungle-esque woods beyond. It later becomes more obviously clear to Captain Slug that The Bog Doctor was a mysterious sort, and he made the reasonable guess that he was a hermit, or at least preferred isolation to a degree to live nearly an hour deep into this jungle-y maze.

They climbed up and up the road, past big trees that leaned above the dirt path, gentle rivers, even small ponds with feral alligators in them. They’re half an hour into their travels when Slug looks forward to the-- very adorable pair, may he add. He envies them-- couple, vividly talking with Bandit this time.

He’s not quite ready to say it aloud just yet, but Bandit really lives up to the charming and attractive thief-type of character and maybe his affection for the raccoon ran deeper than just a little crush, what about it.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Slug pipes in, trying to get his brain to think about something else, and definitely not focus on the warmth of his cheeks underneath his fur. “Can I ask a bit more about this Bog Doctor?”

“Oh!” Rhett is the first to speak, clapping his tiny claws together. “Well. I did forget to mention that when Eugene and I were kids, The Bog Doctor came to our shores but not without complications,”  
  
“You see,” Eugene continues for Rhett, smiling gently. “There was a Serpent that got caught in his propellers--”  
  
There’s no mistaking what Eugene said, and his curiosity must’ve been obvious as not only did his ears spring forward then slanted almost slyly, but his expression betrayed him as well. Eugene and Rhett didn’t falter, but Bandit and Venus did just a bit, more taken aback by their captain’s reaction.  
  
“--And The Bog Doctor was devastated. He called the Serpent his only friend and horrified that he died by his own paw, even though it was accidental. He sat next to her, comforting her until she passed.”

Rhett picks up for Eugene. “The only thing he asked of us when we got him out the water was to leave her there on his boat. They’re both there to this day. He's a pretty nice rascal, too! Very helpful."  
  


There’s a beat of silence that Captain Slug purposely lets hang about, thinking before he finally works his way through it with ease. “That’s.. honestly a lot that I wasn't expecting. Curious,” He pulls the hat’s brim just in front of his eyes, walking with his gaze firmly on the ground. “I did see the Razorback on the capsized boat earlier. I was wondering what that poor thing was about.”

“Is that where you ran off to?” Bandit looks towards the Captain’s hidden eyes, staring at the brim. “You knew ‘bout it?”  
  
“No, not really, Bandit. I was in the library but I stepped outside for a smoke,” To emphasize, he pats the messenger’s bag where his pipe was now. “Just so happened to see it before the fog came in and Venus picked me up.”

“You lucky dog. I would’ve loved to see that, if I’m being honest.”  
  
There’s nothing he can do to stop the playful smirk that his lips form, tilting his head back enough to eye up Bandit. “Well, nothing’s stopping us from visiting the beach later.”  
  
Bandit looks a bit taken aback and Venus takes the chance to pop his head between the two taller figures, looking up at them as they look down at him. “Can I tag along?” He asks, Slug nods.  
  
Suddenly, their guides stop at the foot of an incline and prompt the other three to follow suit. Eugene points forward, “We’re here! Up there’s his house.”

“Right!” Rhett beams. “We’ll head back-- Oh, almost forgot.” The rat swings his bag around and digs around it, pulling out a rolled up map that he hands forward to the curious hyena. “I’m afraid we have to get going soon to help Eugene’s parents out, but we brought y'all a map to head out if the doc can't walk all of you back. I do apologize!"

Captain Slug takes the rolled map in his paws, shaking his head. "S'alright, you got matters to attend to, Rhett." Bandit comes closer to Slug's side, pulling on one end of the map while Slug himself held the other end steady, unraveling the old parchment of Bogland's forest. Venus pokes his head out above their shoulders, tiny tail wagging.

“That’s such a pretty map of the forest!” Venus chirped, still trying to get a good look at it so Slug stepped back a bit, allowing Venus to get a better view as well as hold it.

“Thank you, Rhett. Thank you, Eugene.” Bandit said, shifting his gaze towards them. “We appreciate this, but are you sure you two will manage walking the path back down?”  
  
“Yeah,” Slug frowns. “We know you’re born residents of Bogland Islands, but..”

  
“Aw.. It’s nice of you all to worry, but we’ll be fine! Eugene here can fight off just about anything.”  
  
“Oh, don’t flatter me like that, Rhett--”  
  
“It’s true!” Nuzzling his nose with a tiny peck to the horse’s jaw, the rat turns towards the trio one more. “Off we go, then. I wish you three a good afternoon, be careful!”

The couple walks past them, waving and smiling and very adorable and friendly-- The trio waves their goodbyes and see you later’s back, but before either party goes on with their business, Rhett calls from the horizon, “Let us know how the meeting goes, we’ll be at the Inn tonight!”  
  


“We will!” Venus called back.  
  
As the pair continued to walk further and further away, the trio still stood there. Slug offered a smile to the distance, before looking back at his crew members.  
  
Bandit’s rolled up the map carefully, smiling as well, while he gave the map for the excitable Venus to hold. Even after nearly a whole year of knowing Bandit, Captain Slug had never known if the man in question found interest in _him._ Slug thinks he’s no gem to be into, even when he wished he was.  
  
He’s just some old cranky captain. He’s just Slug.  
  
The captain catches himself before he goes too far into his conscious once again and clears his throat, calling for their attention. “Come on both of you,” Despite how sore his legs felt, he turned up the incline with ease. “Let's see what’s up with this Bog Doctor.”

If the others were as sore as he is, they didn’t mention it either nor made any sort of protest against climbing up the steep so soon.

When they stop at the top, they take in the rather bizarre view. The house was held by a foundation of legs, rickety-looking as the small house itself but somehow stable enough despite the bog underneath the house, inhabited by three peculiar-looking feral gators.  
  
They carefully walk across the precarious bridge incline and Slug looks up at the house, seeing the vague chimney smoke wafting through the air with a distinct smell of food being cooked; soup’s for lunch for the doctor, he guesses, bringing up his paw in a fist to knock.

Then after a second, a muffled voice comes from the inside. “Come on in, the door’s open.”

So he follows suit with the invitation. He turns the knob and pushes the door far enough for Venus and Bandit to peer inside, and see the hooded figure hunched above a cauldron in the fireplace. The Bog Doctor groans as he straightens, pressing one bandaged paw against his back while the free paw extends to the staff laying by his side, wrapping his furry palm around its handle.

The staff was thick and wooden. It’s top branched into an ingrown spiral, where a big red ruby was wedged and sealed in; a magical item of sorts. “Please, do make yourselves at home! I’m just cooking here, trying to get down this recipe.”

  
“How hard is it to make soup, actually?” Asked Bandit with genuine curiosity.  
  
“I guess it depends on how many ingredients the soup requires!” Beamed the stranger, the faint telling of a tail wagging under the cloak. “And if you have the ingredients in the first place. If not you gotta make do, then.”  
  
“Duly noted!”

There is something oddly familiar about that voice and the captain tries to narrow it down as he steps forward and holds the door open for Venus and Bandit. They must’ve noticed the odd look in his eyes as they both filtered into the house past the captain, they didn’t make as much of a peep afterwards. 

Slug shut the door before he made his way up to a bamboo table behind the stranger. The Bog Doctor uses his staff as leverage to pull himself up off the chair, his hood falling off in the process as he turns.

The _least_ striking thing was the very much _real_ feral dog skull he bore, hiding the entire length of his head. No, no. That was mild compared to how severe he got whiplash at that moment.  
  
Slug’s was in shock, pure and utter shock. This is his older brother, the very same one thought to be _dead;_ The one he and their father mourned, the one who had _memories_ of their mother, the one their father tried to keep just as safe. There is a hundred percent no mistaking that-- It’s been more than a decade since he saw his brother, but there is no confusing the same old familiar face, even with that skull.

The doctor falters, eyes widening behind the sockets of his skull-mask. “S- Slug?" He could've almost collapses. "Oh. Oh the heavens, is that really _you?_ ” Bog Doctor’s arms just about go limp, carelessly dropping the staff to the floor. The loud clunk of it as it meets the floor does nothing to deter the taller hyena’s approach, finally finding strength in his arms to reach out to Slug, but the shorter of the two takes a big step back, avoiding contact. “What’re you- It’s me!”

“I know it’s you, Snail.” Slug was in much shock as his own crew and brother were, he almost couldn't believe what he was seeing to the point he thought The Pale Beast was just bent on driving him mad today until Bandit spoke up, sounding a bit unsure when he does.  
  
"You- You two know each other?" He tips his beret up, looking between the two hyenas more clearly. "I feel like we shouldn't be here already."

It's Slug who speaks first, "We do know each other, yes."

"Uh. May I ask for context, cap? 'Cause frankly I'm lost here."  
  
"That's, right there," Bog Doctor chimes, motioning to Slug. "My little brother."

"You're _brothers?_ " Bandit snaps his head back to Slug, blinking. "Cap, I didn't know you had a brother?"  
  
"Neither did I,"  
  
"What do you mean _neither did I?_ You know who I am! We literally grew up together!"  
  
"Until you went and vanished, that is."

"I know, I know, but I can explain that!"  
  
He made the attempts to approach Slug again, but he responded by raising up his paw and pointing a finger, wiggling it no.  
  
"Let's save the family reunion hugs for later, because I sure want to hear why you've dropped off like that." After all, it didn't mean Snail faked his death; news didn't travel far outside islands so he couldn't have confirmed his _being alive_ if he didn't know about it first, but he needed a confirmation first to decide if he's both angry and relieved, or happy and relieved. He drew his arm back, crossing them both over his chest then.

The Bog Doctor sighs in defeat then. "Alright. I guess It's only fair,  
  
It's a long story but I won't bore you with all the details. I ran into some complications on the first island I went to, and that's putting it mildly, so I came here instead to succeed in my craft, I.. admittedly didn't find our family important to focus at the time, so I just stopped sending letters." There's a disapproving snarl from Slug, but Snail continues, warily and quickly. "I did send one package when I came out that harmful rut, though! but it got lost in the mail. I tried to send a proper letter after, but then I heard some gossip from a former courier about one of Captain Rosso's sons being pronounced dead, I thought it was you for a moment, but I heard my name and, well, in a great act of foolishness; I decided to live that lie. I just thought it'd make it hurt less, somehow."

Everything, everyone, was silent.

Not even the rumbling of gators or the occasional loud breath.  
  
Just complete silence; filling up the tiny house like a flooding river swallowing an entire town. Just as suffocating.

"So news _does_ sometimes travel, even to the right ears." The captain spoke through grit teeth, griping his paw into a tight fist. His breathing was considerably growing very slow and very deep as he tried to maintain his cool and refusing to cry altogether; he suddenly didn't want to look as vulnerable as he felt but _something_ twisted in his gut, twinged and rooted firmly with decades worth of anger and sadness that all just crawled under his skin.  
  
It's like his brain went static-y white, his lid all but boiled off and he couldn't control it. “You _fucking_ asshole,” Bog Doctor flinched, ears set back, making him appear much smaller than he actually is but made no attempts to move away despite the notable anger. Slug was crying hard now, quite profusely sullen.  
  
“Slug, I know that wasn't my greatest idea. It was bad of me to do,” He takes another step closer, “but I've missed you all. Please?” and he opens his arms for a second time, expectantly, and makes another closer approach for an embrace. "Don't cry, please. I'm sorry-"  
  
It didn’t go well, really.

Slug didn't react by recoiling further back or even shoving him away, instead, without moment’s hesitation reeled back and connected a direct punch to Bog Doctor’s jaw. The mask was sent flying off towards a Venus scattering out the way, not really seeming to fancy touching a real skull. The tall one let out an indignant yelp of pain, between being punched and losing his footing so painfully, he’s not sure what hurt physically the most. Then there’s the emotional pain because his brother striking him like that was not something he’d expected he were to do.

On the floor was The Bog Doctor now; his one good eye had momentarily shut as he willed the hurt down, tasting the blood running like water from his busted lip. He opens his eye again, peeking from the only opening of the bandages he bore for reasons Slug did not care to ask at the moment. Captain Slug looked down to his brother, snarling and agitated. The static white in his mind was replaced by flushes of pure, hot red, irritating him to his very bones.  
  
He couldn't find his words, so he opted for baring his teeth far more than it’s ever been seen, if ever. They were _all_ sharp and dangerous, looking like they could slice flesh right off. “ _That's why?_ Your reaction wasn't to disprove your death, but instead to _actually fake it?_ Off your merry way like _that_ , then?  
  
“Slug-"

"For like, what, twenty-one years? Or twenty-two?"  
  
"Listen-"  
  
“ _No!_ I don’t want to hear your bullshit! What the _hell_ were you thinking all this time, Snail? Just _what_ _?_ ” Slug throws his palm open, flailing the arm as he points out a window to nothing in particular. “You could've just told us! Did you think dad really would've rather have you dead instead of the fact that you just wanted to do your own thing? He mourned your death! _We_ mourned your death, Snail! He thought you died because of him, and now he’s dead, just like mom. Like our entire family! I was _so alone.”_

The news hit him like a entire brick wall falling on him and stealing his breath. The ache in his side from the fall, the sear of his wound, the throbbing pain in his head and jaw-- Forgotten. Instead a mixture of every stage of grief filled the hole previously occupied with physical hurt. The Bog Doctor felt his own tears finally giving way after holding them since his brother showed up.

“I- I, _what?_ ” Bog Doctor croaked, tears matting the fur past wet bandages. “Wh- Dad? He.. He's dead?"  
  
That just made everything worse. The last time he lost his cool like this was back in his isolated island where nothing but wildlife experienced his mutations and he became well-acquainted with the telltale signs of it, and when he went to shout at that moment, he choked instead as if he’d swallowed his own tears.

That was one.

It felt like he swallowed his own breath instead. Slug tried his best to pass it off to the rest as fatigue, but the moment his bones started to quite literally shift made him grow desperate. He sought pressure against the shifting ribcage, he wanted to _scream_ but held it in. Unfortunately he caved to the first of the two ideas, hissing the moment he pressed the paw into the restless pain. He’d long been desensitized to how grotesque it is to feel that, but the growing pains never ceased. It’s not long before all three of them realized something was wrong with the captain, as he took a seat and wheezed.  
  
For what must be already ten or so minutes of a shitshow, one of the silent onlookers finally spoke. It was Bandit, who had a look of much concern with equal parts confusion. "There’s a lot to unpack here that I’m not sure Venus and I should’ve seen the feud of, but Slug? Wh- What’s wrong- That isn’t the elephant in the room.”  
  
He can almost feel Bandit’s frown even when he doesn’t look up at them, purposely keeping his shut tight eyes under the brim of his hat once again. He gasped for air, every rib in his body taking formation with that mind of their own. “I- I’m sorry, you two, I’m fine, _”_ _  
_ _  
_ “You’re not fine.” Bog Doctor spoke so sincerely as he stood, Slug almost forgets he’s supposed to be mad at him, but the odd sense of urgency and great concern in his voice was different from the last, like he’s shocked. “Slug. You- You’re-”  
  
“Traumatized? Yes.” He snapped. Slug decided he didn’t want to hear the rest of it. “I watched our father die, you bastard.”

The doctor pretended he didn’t have a building headache and decided to risk another attempt at a peaceful reapproach. It only further agitated Slug’s insides literally trying to rip themselves apart into a horrible, horrible thing he’d rather keep all three safe from.  
  
He doesn’t say a word, just bolts out the door and drowns out the calls from behind.  
  


  
  


________________________  
  


  
  


His legs ached with so much fervor they trembled. All he could do was rest his body against the small steep he’d eventually fallen off of after running like a madman, but at least he enjoyed the pleasant little cove he’d chucked himself in, even if by accident. The peach hues of the skies de-stressed his previously agitated, crying hackles, but he wasn’t all too pleased about The Bog Doctor, Snail, pulling off this masquerade of his.  
  


Maybe older siblings are meant to bother their younger siblings, but the wool Snail pulled from his eyes was so far off from that.

His chest hurt with equal amounts of sore aching now that his ribcage was back in place, only to bother him with phantom paints and a slight hint of self-consciousness. It hurt breathing even mildly, but regardless of the pain it didn’t stop him from slouching against the slope with a big, deep intake and the resulting exhale. It almost felt like his ribcage was a breath away from exploding from the inside out. He pulls the hat’s brim down to cover his eyes and shield them from the soft glow of everything around him, then he lets his paws rest crossed across his stomach.  
  
He’s not entirely sure how long it’d been since he stumbled down here and decided it was a good place to rest, but apparently it has been long enough for his brother to find him.  
  
“Slug! Oh dear.” Bog Doctor whines as he quickly slid down the steep, with much more control and grace than his younger brother. Little bits of dirt and pebbles tumble down as The Bog Doctor disturbs them--  
  
Slug hadn’t said a thing, too tired to even just look up or move his hat, but he glanced to the empty spot besides him becoming clustered with the small pebbles and bit of dirt then completely filled up with a pair of legs, and the staff from earlier. His brother seems hesitant at first-- Just standing there, unsure of what to do until he’s confident he won’t punch or run away again.

He’s not gonna fight anymore and he’s thankful Bog Doctor realizes this when he finally sits down next to him, folding his legs together and placing his staff there. He can’t see his brother’s face, just the side of his body. He looks tense to say the least, his chest heaving without noise.  
  
“What’re you doing down here?” Bog Doctor asks, deciding the silence went on long enough apparently.  
  
“Resting. What’s it look like I’m doing?”

“You sure are. You fell, didn’t you?” He teases goodheartedly, shifting his weight to look properly at Slug. “‘You’ve got scruffs and smudges on your coat and hat-- You’re really armed to teeth.”  
  
“Mind your own business, Snail.” Captain Slug tips his brim up, huffing as he looks at Snail’s face. “You’re one to talk with that skull you’re wearing.”

“Okay, fair.”

The Bog Doctor snorts at this turn of events, and Captain Slug just rolls his eyes and digs around his pocket for the cigarette pack and lighter. It’s not until he smacks down the pack against his wrist and pulls out one that Bog Doctor looks utterly shocked.  
  
“..What?” Slug carefully lights his cigarette. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He’s thankful the wind is blowing against them so the smoke doesn’t potentially bother his brother, but it looks like he’s bothered anyhow which is completely understandable.

“You want me to not smoke right now, Snail?”

“No, no,” Snail shakes his head, holding his paws out pointedly at him. “It’s just-- You _smoke?_ ”  
  
Slug takes the cigarette between his fingers, drawing in and then out in a large puff of smoke. “Ah,” He shrugs. “Right. I smoke a pipe too, but that’s fairly recent.”  
  
“That’s not good for you!”  
  
“Well, I’m not sixteen anymore. I only picked up smoking when I was twenty-five, Snail.”

He can tell Bog Doctor wasn’t all too happy about that. He wasn’t mad though, at least Slug didn’t think so. His ears slant to the side, sighing. “Hm. Did dad know?”  
  
“No,” And he drew in another long breath, paying no mind to the way his chest protested. “He died five years prior I picked up the habit.”

Then silence hung thick the air above them, neither daring to speak and disturb the eerie peace of it; considering they’re family and it’s not the first or last time they’d bicker or disagree on things like smoking, the silence wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable but The Bog Doctor was restless since the news of their father’s death.

Slowly, Bog Doctor finds his voice through the internal and restless turmoils, his voice so low he sounds defeated. “I never heard about it. I really didn’t, Slug. You have to believe me.”  
  
Slug doesn’t wanna interrupt him when he stops, but he seeks reassurance when his brother looks at him again, so he nods gently with a small smile. “I know, Snail. I believe you.”  
  
“I knew the numbers of sailors dwindled down to one but that’s about it. You know how dad was so smart about sailing the seas, I never thought he could’ve died,” Slumping against the steep, Bog Doctor’s voice begins to sound croaked and hoarse. “I just thought you stopped sailing and dad went out to fish.. Did you get to bury dad?”  
  
“Unfortunately. I didn’t get the chance for a proper burial, but Eastduff Reef made a memorial for him.”

“..There’s not a grave?” The color drains from his skin under fur, fear setting in greenish eyes. “Slug, what happened to him? Please tell me.”

At this Captain Slug hesitates, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. It’s only fair to tell his brother, let him know what happened, tell him the actual story unlike the ones he told reporters. Slug would just not tell the _full_ story and avoid specific details like he’s avoiding eye contact. Were he in Snail’s shoes, he’d want to know the story too.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Snail,” The hyena finds the courage to make eye contact then, firm and stern. “People back home know a different story. You remember how superstitious they are, right?”

The Bog Doctor wordlessly nods.

“I was too scared to tell them what actually happened, so I changed some stuff here and there so you must never speak the full truth. Not yet, at least. Do I have your word, brother?”  
  
“You do.” Bog Doctor nods again, paw against his chest where his heart is. “I cross my heart and I hope to die.”  
  
“Don’t go _that_ far.” He smacks Bog Doctor’s shoulder, scoffing. “We went out fishing a few hours away from Eastduff Reef to catch bigger fish and we really didn’t have any luck that day in any sense of the word, and to make matters worse there was such a thick fog all around us and this odd sense of dread.”

Slug pauses to take one last of the cigarette, his paws were starting to shake and he needed to calm the nerves down. He puts the cigarette out in the sand.  
  


“I.. I tried to tell dad but he was in some weird trance that I to this day,” He picks the cigarette butt from the sand, stashing it in a small bag produced from his pockets. “Still am not sure what caused it. I finally snapped him out of it and we were heading home but,”

Looking out to what little he can see of the sea, he can just barely imagine the vague figure of The Pale Beast stalking through the fog.  
  
“This wretched beast came out of the water and snatched dad up. I can only hope he didn’t feel insufferable pain as he was eaten alive.”  
  
“I’ll kill it.” It’s been such a long time since he’s seen his brother truly angry, and combined with the pain of their father’s untimely end, he looked scary when Slug looked at him in surprise. He bared his teeth at the sea, choking down tears. “What ate him? What did. I’ll hunt it down--”  
  
That’s not good. He’ll get himself killed; Slug has to stop him before he makes up his mind, Slug knows how stubborn he is. “Whatever you’re planning on doing, don’t. It’s not what dad would’ve wanted, and It’s pointless be--” He’s cut off by the other, who gasps and makes a weird noise.  
  
“It’s _pointless?_ ” Bog Doctor growls. “How is _that_ \--”

“Snail! I don’t mean it like that! Just _listen,_ ” The childish pout that follows on his brother’s end is enough of a victory. “I was trying to get to the point of the thing that killed him and _why_ it’s pointless. You’ve heard of The Pale Beast, no? That damned thing ate him for lunch. I lost dad because of her and I can’t lose my brother either, now that I know he’s _alive.”_

“Please, Snail. If not for my sake, do it for dad’s sake,” Now he begins to battle with tears again, scrunching his snout in a frown. “Mom’s too. I may not remember her, but I don’t think she’d approve of her eldest son going to his doom. You know what The Pale Beast can do, Snail.”

Silence. It befalls on them once again, like the worst type of blanket to warm yourself up in the cold night. The Bog Doctor ponders, so painstakingly long it makes Slug’s itch. The Bog Doctor just began crying again, deflating Captain Slug from a breath he’d been holding and his own tears.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Slug whispers, sitting up straight the best he could. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save dad. I-- I honestly didn’t know what to do, I froze and he pushed me out the way. If only I would’ve insisted earlier to go--”

“No, Slug,” He takes off the skull, wiping more tears into the fur of his arms instead. “It’s not your fault! Don’t go blaming yourself for that.” Bog Doctor sighs, looking at him now. “I won’t hear it, you thinking it’s your fault. Can.. I ask one more thing, about you?”  
  
“I.. I guess you’re right but--”  
  
“Slug. What would dad say?”  
  
Slug falls quiet, pursing his lips before saying, “Okay.” And continuing on. “To answer your question though, we have a lot of catching up to do anyway so I don’t see why not. Shoot.”  
  
“Thank you.” He tilts his head, then. “What happened to your ear? The one with the piercing.”

“Oh.” Slug twitches that ear, having gotten so used to it’s missing chunks and the big triangle earring he forgets about it. “You know how dad’s boat had that try-net? It got snapped in half by Pale Beast and some astray piece grazed the side of my head.”  
  
“ _Heavens._ How did you manage to get away?”

“I got tossed inside the boat, like I said, dad just pushed me out of harm’s way and..” Slug can’t exactly tell his brother of what really happened to him, now, can he. The captain will just tell himself that, if Snail was allowed to keep his living a secret, Slug can do so as well with his curse-infected self. “I don’t know, she just forgot I was there and left.”  
  
There’s a thoughtful hum from The Bog Doctor, cupping his chin between index and thumb pads. “They do say she’s finicky and unpredictable, so I wouldn’t know if that’s usual or unusual for her..”

If The Bog Doctor buys that half-lie or not, Captain Slug doesn’t know so he quickly moves on. “Afterwards I just passed out and washed ashore a deserted island. I lived there for nearly five years, I just-- once I touched ground, I didn’t wanna go back to the waters. That fear died down and eventually faded into nothing obviously but, I just couldn’t.”

  
  


“Completely as good a reason as any other when our world is like this. I’m so sorry you had to go through that all alone, I.. I should’ve been there one way or another.”  
  
“It’s in the past now.” Slug picks himself up carefully, watching the way his legs trembled as he did so. “All we can do is accept what’s been done to make amends for our errors.”

“I appreciate the second chance.” The Bog Doctor picks up his staff, quickly pulling himself up right after Captain Slug, offering support by stilling him by the shoulders. “Wise words.”

And quickly after, Slug jerks in a panic, making Bog Doctor drop his staff yet again as he assumes something’s gonna send Slug running again. But instead he just mutters a very quick, “ _Oh my god--”_ looking up at the small cliff. “Where are Bandit and Venus? Are they okay?”  
  
“Calm down, calm down!” He slaps a paw against his chest, breathing deep. He squeezes Slug’s shoulder comfortingly. “They’re both fine, I promise. I insisted they both stayed at my shack while I went looking for you.”

When he feels Slug’s shoulder relax under his paw, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, The Bog Doctor lets go to pick up his staff instead. “Shall we head back, then?”  
  
“Yeah.” He drops his paw down along his face, groaning. “Yeah. I think I need to rest. I’m sorry for punching you back there, by the way.”

“It’s okay, but I forgive you. Can you walk okay?” When Slug confirms with a nod, The Bog Doctor offers a gentle smile as he motions Slug to follow him before turning around to follow the steep’s edge, deciding it’s better not to force him climb because he’ll insist.

  
  
  


When they’re about ten minutes into their walk back to the shack, Captain Slug just then realizes how far he’d ran. Not an entire marathon run, mind you, but still pretty far. Keeping his gaze steady and forward, only his scarred ear twitches when his brother suddenly speaks into the silence.

“Can I ask you something else, Slug?”  
  


The Bog Doctor asks with some fear and worry in his voice. From the corner of his eyes Captain Slug can see his brother fidgeting with the staff nervously as they walk, shoulders stiff and tense.  
  


“Go ahead.”  
  
“Do you hate me, Slug?”  
  
He sputters a bit, looking at him then back at the path ahead. “By the seas, of course not!” There’s an indignant scoff that travels out his chest that it almost makes him cough. “I’m a little mad right now, but I couldn’t hate you even if I wanted to. Don’t be ridiculous yourself now, Snail. You’re my brother.”  
  
“Oh,’’ The relief washes clear through his brother, going back to his usual posture. “I’m certainly relieved to hear that. I don’t want to be an absent family member anymore.”  
  
“Well, for starters you can start writing addresses on your letters.”  
  
“No, no, no.” He grins. “I have an even better idea.”  
  
“Oh? What idea is that, then?  
  
“I think I’ll go sailing you and your two buddies back at my shack.”  
  
Slug had to do a mental double take. He whipped his head around so fast to face him it hurt.

_“What now?”_

**Author's Note:**

> trivia/fun facts/idk
> 
> \- Razorback Serpents: A very strange serpent monster, rumored be an early, ancient mutation or evolution of the Anguilliformes (eels) from the prehistoric age of the dinosaurs. They're gentle giants who tend to be curious and incredibly friendly, and are perhaps well known for their very colorful sails on the back stretching their entire body and smaller fins on their jaws (females of the Razorbacks have have three point-tipped fin on their nose, used to guide their young.) and their (aforementioned) resilient carcasses.  
> \- The book Slug found is half ramblings, half a diary, half a new language only spoken by his brother Snail, of which he intended to give to Slug and their father before dropping off the face of the earth.  
> \- Snail is basically the wizard who deals in the occult to help others and sells healing potions.  
> \- Slug remembers what boat Snail set off on but didn't recognize it due to the seawater and time wasting it away years later.  
> \- The Uroboros is Captain Slug's boat.  
> \- Rhett and Eugene genuinely had no idea Bog Doctor is Captain Slug's brother.


End file.
